The Party
by Henrietta R. Hippo
Summary: Christmas is a time for joy, a time for laughter and a time for jealous feelings and sexual frustration...what? It wasn't at all what Canada had expected from France's party, but a night spent with France is surely one to remember. France/Canada -rated for sexy times- Oneshot


**Title: The Party**

**Pairing: France/Canada (various others implied)**

**Christmas is a time for joy, a time for laughter and a time for jealous feelings and sexual frustration...what? It wasn't at all what Canada expected from France's party, but a night spent with France is surely one to remember**

* * *

"Canada dude!"

Canada jumped at the shock of hearing his name spoken so loudly from behind him, he spun around in a flash and the warm glass of mulled wine he was holding sloshed down the front of his Christmas jumper. "O-Oh...hi America." he murmured awkwardly as he grappled with the slippery glass, he hurriedly dropped it back onto the table behind him.

"Whoa dude I didn't know you were here!" America said with a laugh, taking a drink from whatever it was in the polystyrene cup held haphazardly in his hand.

Canada blinked slowly up at him. "...we came here together." he said slowly in befuddlement, trying to wring out his knitted reindeer jumper. "You drove us."

America drained the contents of his cup. "Huh?" he grunted, his voice muffled slightly.

The Canadian sighed deeply. "...nothing."

His brother merely shrugged with a smile, crushing the cup in his hand before he tossed it onto the table behind the Canadian. Canada feigned a smile back, still picking at his sodden jumper as he gazed slightly despondently around. The main living room of the French home was an extravagant, glittery, glamorous display of the holiday season. A gigantic silver Christmas tree stood tall in the corner beside a roaring fire place, draped from head to toe in shining baubles and trinkets, gold tinsel and a diamond encrusted glass star glinting on top. Every inch of France's living room was showered in pink and purple fairy lights that clung to the walls, various clumps of mistletoe hung from the ceiling and the windows were frosted over with fake spray on snow.

Festive Christmas music was playing jauntily around them, mostly drowned out by the noises of all the people congregated in the space, shuffling together, trying to avoid becoming a target for mistletoe kisses. Germany however was having no such luck, he was being deliberately cornered by Italy every few minutes under every single piece of hanging mistletoe. Spain and Prussia appeared to be having some kind of dance off beside the stereo system and Japan was stood rather unsurely in the corner, his hands clamped protectively around his cup yet he didn't appear to be drinking.

Most people however seemed to be having a good time; the party was well and truly in full swing, the sounds of laughter and music filled the room yet Canada's insides were squirming far too ferociously for him to enjoy himself.

America gazed around the living room for a few moments before he snorted. "Dude that is like the gayest Christmas tree I've ever seen in my life." he chortled, pointing at the glitzy tree over his shoulder.

Canada glanced up briefly, shrugging a little. "...I think it's nice...America how much have you had to drink?" he asked, eyeing the American wearily as he jutted about on the balls of his feet.

"Huh? Nothing dude!" America insisted, reaching for a large, half empty bottle of cola on the table. "Just soda, I'm driving home tonight...I think I'm supposed to be giving someone a lift home too..." he said thoughtfully, shrugging as he took a swig from the plastic bottle.

"...you're giving me a lift."

"Huh? Oh sure I guess I can give you a lift home."

"You already promised you would-"

"Great! I'll see you later." the American gave him a salute and a grin before he took off across the room to talk to England, who was looking rather miserable in a Santa hat, he was sat with his arms folded on one of the sofas beside the fire.

Canada let out an inaudible sigh, shifting around to the table again; he refilled his empty glass from the pan of mulled wine. His brother may have been completely sober, but the addition of sugary soda to his bloodstream was in no way obstructing his confidence, it was as prominent and as present as ever. The Canadian frowned, glancing around again to find his brother chatting perfectly happily with England, managing to hold a intimate conversation with the Brit even whilst calling over to Japan occasionally in the corner to get him more involved in the party as well. Canada felt that familiar surge of jealously and drank deeply from his glass, wincing slightly as he swallowed it.

He had never been a big fan of wine, or even alcohol in general, but tonight he was going to need the courage. Canada hesitated slightly as he went refill his wine from the ladle in the pot on the table, should he be drinking for confidence? It surely wasn't a foolproof option, there was always the worry of losing his head, vomiting or even passing out from too much drink, and he couldn't let that happen, not here, not tonight, not in...his home.

The Canadian's heart gave an unpleasant jolt when he heard the party's host re-enter emerge from the kitchen, holding onto a plate of freshly baked mince pies for them all and announcing to the room that he had returned. Canada kept his back to the rest of the room with one shaking hand on the wine glass. Behind him he heard everyone surge towards France to help themselves to a mince pie but the Canadian remained still and silent, his heart hammering anxiously beneath his wet jumper. He glanced down at the glass, biting his lip, on a sudden whim the Canadian drained theremaining contents, wincing harshly as the sharp taste hit his tongue.

"You don't like mon ami?"

Canada's throat lurched and the wine he was drinking spluttered from his lips with noisy coughs and a little choking. France looked slightly startled, gently patting the Canadian on the back and asking if he was alright as the young man leant over the table, trying to draw breath. Canada felt himself flush bright red and he hurriedly wiped his lips, nodding rapidly. "Y-Yeah fine...sorry."

France smirked slightly, placing the tray of mince pies down on the table beside the mulled wine. "I think someone's 'ad too much to drink." he drawled, grinning at the younger man.

Canada couldn't stop the insistent blushing, he tried to avoid catching France's eyes as he stood close beside him. "...no, it's okay...it just went down the wrong way." he muttered quietly, glancing up at the blond.

His stomach gave another uncomfortable lurch at the sight of the man. France was dressed in a light, white dress shirt; the fabric was so thin it was almost see through, that, coupled with the fact that barely any of the buttons were done up, ensured that Canada was given a close up view of the Frenchman's chiselled abs and the soft smattering of blond hair that graced his chest. He'd loosely tied back his golden locks with a small piece of silver tinsel and the stubble on his chin had been allowed to grow over the Christmas period, giving him a more rugged look.

He was so beautiful.

France hadn't noticed the Canadian staring at him, he was too busy surveying the man's beige woolly jumper. "Mon ami you look so adorable in ze jumper." he told him softly, causing the man's face to darken even further. "But iz the reindeer supposed to be bleeding like zat?" he asked in confusion, pointing to the deep red stain that was sunk into the front of his jumper, splattered across the frolicking animal.

Canada shook his head, twisting the ends of the jumper awkwardly in his hands. "Oh no that's...that's wine, I spilt it by accident..." he mumbled embarrassedly, silently cursing his older brother in his head.

France just smiled at him, reaching onto the table to rearranged the assortment of nibbles. "Zat's a shame, it'z such a nice jumper...if you give it to me I can go and clean it for you so it does not stain." the blond offered kindly, holding out a hand towards him expectantly.

Canada felt his blush creep down to his neck. "N-No!" he blurted out suddenly, then immediately regretted it as France seemed startled by the outburst. "I mean...it's just that this is your party France, you don't have to go to any trouble..." he muttered, casting an anxious glance down at his pale coloured jumper.

"It'z no trouble mon ami." France said with a pleasant smile, reaching for the hem of the Canadian's jumper.

The Canadian shook his head, taking a quick step back to pull himself away from France's hand. "No! I'm...I'm not wearing a shirt under here." he squeaked shyly, his heart pounding nervously as France's bright blue eyes surveyed him slowly.

He could have sworn the Frenchman was drinking him in, eyeing him up and down before he finally met his embarrassed gaze. "I see, well I can't just let you to walk around like zis, why don't you go upstairs and 'elp yourself to a shirt of mine to borrow for tonight?" France suggested with a smile.

Canada felt warmly surprised. "Really? You're sure?"

"Of course, feel free...it'z ze second door on ze left." France informed him before he slunk off to rejoin the party, giving the young man a wink as he slid past, he was heading over to the sofa where America and England were sat. Canada stared after him for a few long moments, his chest squeezing uneasily; after a while he managed to tear his gaze away and he moved rather swiftly to the large polished double doors that led into the hallway of France's home.

Never had Canada more in his life wished he was more like his brother. He was mistaken for him all the time although he could never really understand why, they were nothing alike in terms of personality. America was confident and easy-going, he never seemed to care what others thought of him and he presented himself so casually and naturally. The Canadian on the other hand was constantly aware of everything that was going on, every word he spoke, every movement he made no matter how minute, and how this effected people's opinions of him...he hated it, to be so self-conscious, but this was never more prominent than when he was talking to the object of his desire.

Canada had had strong feelings for France since as long as he could remember; since he'd first matured into adulthood and become an independent nation he knew, he knew he had developed feelings beyond that of mere friendship for the man. France was the only one who knew who he was every single time, who greeted him at meetings and invited him to his Christmas parties...the only one who really knew the Canadian existed. Every time he spoke to France he was so worried about making a fool of himself, he just wanted to impress him! But it was so difficult when the man was so impressive and perfect himself...and talking to him whilst wearing a jumper that was sodden with wine he'd clumsily sloshed down his front was nothing short of mortifying.

Canada let out a tiny whine of despair under his breath as he reached the winding, twisted banisters of France's staircase. He cringed heavily, cursing the red stain on his front as he climbed slowly up the lengthy staircase, the tapping of his feet on the wooden steps echoing softly throughout the extravagant home. When the Canadian came to the narrow landing he shuffled nervously down the hallway until he came to the second door on the left, what he could only assume was the man's bedroom.

With a pounding heart and bated breath he slowly turned the handle and let himself inside, flicking on the light switch. France's bedroom was almost as vast as the living room downstairs; a large King sized bed was housed in railings that held lavish red curtains that draped down to the floor. His wardrobe was pure white and was so vast that it ran all along the length of three of the walls, housing what had to be hundreds and hundreds of garments. Canada stood for a moment, gazing in complete awe at the man's spacious bedroom, the white carpet and red striped wallpaper gave it such an exuberant look, it was such a luxurious and mature looking bedroom that the Canadian was wary to step foot inside, feeling as though he wasn't of a high enough status to enter such an ornate bedroom.

The Canadian edged slowly into the room, he could feel the vibrations downstairs from the upbeat music beneath his feet, he bit his bottom lip anxiously, although the Frenchman had told him to help himself after all. He wasn't sure which part of the massive wardrobe held shirts but he took hold of the handle of one of the doors near the middle, sliding it open to take a look. The floor of the wardrobe housed about fifty pairs of shoes, smart loathers, trainers, slippers, flip flops and various other shiny leather shoes. Hanging above them were a collection of dinner jackets, lined up in colour co-ordination, the black ones on the left, followed by the grey, then the brown, and then the rest of the brightly coloured ones were in a collection together, reds, pinks, blues and even greens. Canada tried the next door along, sliding it open to find what he was looking for, France's shirts.

These seemed to be ordered from expensive high quality designer shirts to the cheapest, lowest quality casual t-shirts. Canada tentatively shuffled through the shirts on their hangers, wondering which one he'd dare to wear. After a few moments of searching he selected one from the middle, a deep red coloured shirt with white pearly buttons. The Canadian gazed down at it for a few moments, caressing the soft silky fabric beneath his fingers. As he lifted it up to check the size would fit him, the front of the shirt brushed delicately across his nose and he couldn't help but inhale deeply. It had France's scent. So sweet and yet so musky at the same time, a hint of fine wine and perhaps just the tiniest whiff of cigarette smoke, yet it didn't make the Canadian grimace as smoke usually did, infused with the rest of France's natural scent only made it that much more indulgent.

Before he could even think about how strange it would look if someone were to walk in on him, Canada had brought the shirt up to his face and buried his nose into the fabric, immersing himself in the sweet scent. It sent a warm fuzzy glow right from his heart, coursing throughout his entire body. The Canadian sighed weakly, his hands shaking just slightly as he began to undress himself from the stained jumper and slowly pulled on France's own shirt. It just about fit, the sleeves were a little short but otherwise it was the right size. Canada did the pearly buttons right up to the collar, pressing the sleeves into his nose again when he reached the top one.

Aware of how unusual he was behaving, Canada turned off the light as he left the room silently, depositing his jumper on the side of the banisters as he clambered down the stairs and went to re-join the party. The scene was pretty much the same as it had been when he'd left; Prussia had clearly won his dance off and was now demanding that Italy give him a victory kiss, Germany looked completely livid at such an idea; a couple more people had arrived during his absence including Greece, who was clearly the reason why Japan had suddenly gone very red and was downing his drink like there was no tomorrow; and there was also-

"Mon cher 'ave you been 'itting ze gym lately?"

"Why yes, I have been toning myself a little, actually."

"Oui well it shows, doesn't it America?"

"Uhh, yeah..."

England and France were stood talking to America behind the sofa, and the Frenchman had his arms wrapped firmly around England's waist from behind, one of his hands had slid up his smart buttoned shirt to display the Brit's flat stomach. Both America and his brother had the same exact facial expression as they stared at the pair of them, a mixture of shock, disgust and, Canada wasn't sure whether America shared the feelings but, unbelievable jealously to the point it was making him feel sick. America had turned away and inadvertently met his brother's eyes, where he gave him a slightly disgruntled smile of acknowledgement.

But the Canadian had suddenly pushed himself through a group of people to get away from the scene, settling himself firmly against the drinks table once more with his back to the room, his hands braced against the cloth that sat on top. He couldn't tell whether the large lump in his throat was vomit trying to rise to the surface or his desperate attempts to stop himself from howling. Maybe it was just the alcohol in his system, or the hot steam rising from the mulled wine sat on the table beneath him, but his eyes were watering so rapidly that one large tear had managed to dislodged itself from one of his eyes and drip onto the lenses of the Canadian's glasses. Canada sniffed, hurriedly wiping it away on the sleeve of France's red shirt; the strong scent of the blond washed over him as he tried to scrub his eyes dry and this only enhanced them more, sending down wave after wave of tears until he was stood silently practically sobbing into the pan of mulled wine.

France and England were together. That had to be it; Canada hadn't seen either of them in so long, being busy with Christmas and everything, that there was plenty of time for the two of them to have gotten together without anyone being any the wiser. After all they lived so close to each other it was bound to happen eventually...

The Canadian grit his teeth. No. He couldn't, he wouldn't just jump to such a ridiculous conclusion without proper proof, Canada assured himself with a stern sniff and a sharp rub across his eyes. France and England hated one another, that was the way it was the way it had always been...France was just being overly touchy feely, right? He always gets like that, he likes contact sometimes to the point that it makes others uncomfortable, that's just the way he is...and England must just be a little intoxicated that he's letting France do it to him surely?

With a heavy heart now enlightened with the slightest trace of hope the Canadian gingerly peered over his shoulder to take a look at what France was doing now. Then he wished he hadn't. A lurch of horror struck through him even worse than before; France was now not only holding the Brit from behind but England was sat firmly upon his lap on the sofa, cuddled right up to his chest with the Frenchman's hands shoved firmly up his shirt.

America was looking rather disgruntled stood beside them, trying to grab someone, anyone else's attention across the room. England himself looked a little odd but France was sat perfectly comfortably with a light smile playing out on his lips, and he craned his neck upwards slightly to place a soft kiss on the Brit's neck.

Canada felt sick, and not just in his stomach. He pushed himself up from the table and began to surge back through the crowds; past Prussia who now had the beginnings of a black eye whilst Germany held a rather stunned looking Italy against him protectively; past Spain and Belgium who were laughing together beside an irritable looking Romano towards a large glass door. Canada hadn't looked up from the floor to see where he was going and had ended up on the wrong side of the room, instead of the hallway he was now tugging open the door to the patio. He slid open the glass door and darted outside hurriedly before anyone could ask what he was doing...not that anyone had noticed him leaving anyway.

An icy breeze stung the young man's face as he stepped out into the cold. Canada hurried across the patio and only took a few steps onto the frosty grass of France's frozen lawn until the light from the living room was no longer shining on his back and he was left in darkness. He could hear the soft vibrations from the music inside, the occasional sound of laughter and clinking glasses but the Canadian felt miles away. His mind had left him, it had gone blank; he stood shivering in the cold night air, his hands twisting in the fabric of France's shirt as tears fell silently down his face, his breath occasionally hitching in his chest.

Through his clouded mind he couldn't fully hear what was going on just behind him inside the party. There was a slight disturbance he thought, the sound of someone falling into something, a raised voice, a strange silence...then everything seemed to return to normal, but something must have been happening because he was certain, somewhere in the back of his mind, that someone had whistled suggestively, some people were laughing and others were muttering their disapproval about something. But the Canadian didn't bother to turn to look at what was going on, what would be the point? He'd only see more evidence of his true loves love for someone else...

Canada wasn't sure how long he'd stood outside France's home, he just knew it had been long enough for the tears on his face to grow cold to the point where they could have almost formed icicles on his cheeks. The music had grown louder behind him and more erratic as the people inside must have become more and more intoxicated. The Canadian couldn't feel the cold anymore, he wasn't even sure whether he was shivering or if he'd gone numb to the icy winds, he could only feel a deep ache within his chest where his heart should have been...he was pretty sure he'd left it smashed in a thousand pieces on the soft patterned carpet of France's living room.

"...Canada?"

The Canadian jumped violently, he hadn't even registered the music growing momentarily louder as someone had opened the door and stepped outside onto the patio to join him outside. The figure strode across the paved stones and jumped down onto the frosty grass to join him, smiling in a bemused fashion. "What are you doing out 'ere?"

Canada felt a fierce blush rise to his cheeks, anybody could have found him, why did it have to be him? He kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead into the pitch blackness that engulfed the Frenchman's garden, even as he could feel the man standing beside him. "...nothing, just wanted some air." he muttered vaguely, his voice heavy and bunged up. Before France could speak again he continued. "Where's England?" Canada would have spat it bitterly if it were possible, but even in his enraged state he could only manage the usual gooey, sugary murmur he used in the presence of the beautiful blond.

Before France could even open his mouth the question was answered for him, his brother had just appeared noisily in the glass doorway, his shirt half hanging off himself and several dark bruises decorating his neck and shoulders. "Dude you have a spare bedroom? England's refusing to use your bed."

France snorted slightly but nodded. "Oui, ze first floor, door on ze right."

America gave him a salute and a broad grin before sliding the door shut once more and disappearing from sight, they could see him through the glass scrambling back through the living room in his haste to reach the hallway. France just smirked and shook his head whilst Canada looked completely at a loss.

"Wha...what's going on?" he asked the Frenchman softly, finally turning to meet the man's gaze.

France just continued to grin, bouncing back and forth lightly on his heels. "Something zat should 'ave 'appened years ago...I do not think your brother will be able to give you a lift 'ome tonight." he said with a slight chuckle; there was a pause where Canada continued to stare vacantly at the blond and France rolled his eyes fondly. "You're so innocent mon cher..." he purred and Canada's blush flared up even more. "...your brother and England are engaging in l'amour as we speak."

Canada still seemed at a loss but then slowly it all slotted into place in his mind, and he became even more confused. "But...but I thought, I mean I saw you two..." he trailed off into a murmur as the searing jealously fired up again.

France merely smirked and shook his head. "Non non, you think I would go for a man so clearly in love with someone else? Non...I waz just 'elping zem move things along."

"...what do you mean?"

"England showed up at my 'ouse ze other day, drunk and crying saying 'ow much he loves your brother but he does not feel ze same." France told him, wrapping his arms around himself as a cold breeze swept past them.

Canada didn't even feel it. "But he does feel the same! I know America does..."

He nodded, "Exactly, we all know, everyone knows except zose two idiots." France rolled his eyes, smirking again. "So I said I would 'elp to make him jealous, nothing gets ze heart going like pure jealously." he subconsciously side stepped closer to the Canadian as the chilly wind grew stronger.

"Yeah..." Canada murmured softly, turning his gaze back to the dark once more, a strange feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

France watched him for a few moments before he carried on. "...so America just cracked in zere, you should 'ave seen it, pushed me right off England and grabbed 'old of him." his voice sounded strange in the silence, the humour was wavering into a softer, more serious tone. "So now zere upstairs, embracing zere love like zey should be..." France let out a soft noise that sounded like a sigh, and Canada almost jumped when he felt the man's elbow gently nudging him in the side. "...it'z funny isn't it?"

Canada swallowed slightly to clear his dry mouth. "...what is?" he asked quietly, not able to resist the feeling a warmth that spread through him.

France gave a slight shrug, shoving his hands into the pockets of his tight jeans. "Zat others always come to me for advice about love...yet I'm incapable of following my own." he muttered with a slight pouting lip.

Canada cursed the flush of heat that flared up in his chest at this adorable gesture. "...what do you mean?" he asked quietly, still unable to meet the man's gaze.

France let out a sigh that would have sounded overly dramatic had it been anybody else. "I'm such a hypocrite." he muttered.

This time the Canadian had no choice but to look at him, thankfully France's own gaze was fixed firmly where Canada's was just before, towards the darkness of the surrounding garden. "France what's wrong?" he questioned anxiously, biting his bottom lip.

France's eyes flitted towards him with a rather bemused expression and the Canadian shrunk away again. "...nothing, I'm just speaking ze truth...people always come to me for advice on love but 'ow many times 'ave I been lucky in zat area myself?" he asked honestly, staring right into the man's eyes.

Canada deliberately avoided looking. "...I thought you were, I mean..." he shrugged slightly. "...you always talk about-"

"Sex?" France interjected for him and the Canadian blushed but didn't deny it. The Frenchman snorted slightly, shaking his head. "Oui it'z simple enough to get some, but romance is difference...and it'z romance I'm after..." he drawled, his eyes lingering on the Canadian for a moment, across the young man's chest.

Canada bit his lip, shivering slightly as he could feel the intense gaze almost burning through him. "...I still find it hard to believe you can't find that." he murmured softly.

There was silence between the two nations as they both stared at one another; Canada at the man's shoulder, not able to meet the dazzling blue eyes that were still surveying him as he shivered lightly in the cold. The Canadian shifted slightly in the chilly breeze, his toes crunching across the frosty grass as his feet shuffled beneath him and he shifted his gaze back towards the large house behind them. Through the glass doors the party was still swinging, people dancing together, drinking and socialising amongst themselves, completely unaware of the aw...could he call it awkward? Canada wasn't sure whether it was or not...it certainly wasn't comfortable; conversation that was taking place just outside the Frenchman's home. He could have sworn he heard a distant noise high above them tumble out of one of the open windows but it floated past the Canadian's mind and he barely gave it a moment's thought.

"...zat's one of my shirts." France said quietly after a few more moments of silence, causing Canada to start slightly.

Canada glanced up and caught the man staring directly into his chest. "...yeah, yeah it is, is that okay? I mean you said I could borrow one..." he queried anxiously, biting his lip. "...I'll change back into my jumper if you don't want me to wear it, I know it's silk but I thought it was nice and I didn't think..." he could feel himself getting strangely upset, his glasses were slowly steaming up and obscuring his vision as his eyes grew bright with tears. "...I'm sorry I should have just taken a normal shirt, you probably don't want me s-spilling anything on this." he gave a sudden sniff as his voice wobbled and tried to turn away before France could see his eyes.

The Canadian jumped slightly at the large, warm hand suddenly on his back from behind and an arm slipping gently around his waist. "Canada what are you talking about?" France asked softly, trying to nudge the young man back to face him. His face softened at the sight of the Canadian's trembling lip and the moisture appearing behind his lenses. "I waz just going to say it looks very good on you..." France murmured with a warm smile, giving one of the buttons on his red silk shirt a tweak.

Canada stared at him, knotting his fingers together. "...really?" he squeaked.

France smirked slightly. "Of course...you look good in everything you wear, Canada." he drawled softly, very delicately slipping his thumbs beneath the young man's eyelids to wipe away his tears. "Although...you'd look even better with nothing on at all."

The Canadian inhaled sharply at the man's words and took a hesitant step back from France in shock. "...what?" he whispered, hurriedly cleaning his glasses with the inside of his sleeve.

France was frowning now, he looked frustrated, but not with the Canadian. "...why? Why do I always do zat?" he spat irritably in a sudden rage, the blond spun around to stamp his foot into a frozen flower bed, hissing slightly under his breath in angry French.

Canada felt slightly nervous now, his heart had started hammering again. "...France what's the matter?"

France gripped his ponytail and yanked the tinsel out of it, shaking his glorious mane of golden curls free so he could brush his hands through his hair frustratedly as he faced the Canadian again, he sighed. "I've just made ze mistake I always make." he said much softer this time, a certain strain in his voice. "...I talk about wanting romance but whenever I get ze chance I mess it up by making a stupid sexual reference."

Canada wasn't sure how to feel at that moment, France wasn't being himself at all, he'd never seen this straight faced, serious man who stood in front of him now; talking with resentment, resentment for himself. The Canadian hesitated momentarily before he edged up to the blond, trying to give him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "...I didn't think it was stupid." he muttered quietly.

France gave him a long, searching look before smirking. "Of course it waz...it'z my stupid way of trying to avoid rejection." his voice was so soft Canada could barely hear him, he must have had a befuddled look on his face because France continued to explain. "...when someone rejects a sexual advance it'z easy enough to brush it aside, what hurts iz when you lay down your heart and 'ave it crushed in front of you..." he murmured; the Frenchman was stood directly in front of Canada yet this time it seemed that he was the one unable to look the latter in the eyes.

This time Canada held no reserve, he stared long and hard into France's face as he felt his heart glowing warm from the man's seemingly sincere words. "...I know that feeling." he spoke suddenly into the silence, a lot louder than he'd intended and he surprised even himself.

France looked startled, blinking up slowly at the slightly taller man. "...you do?" he questioned softly.

"Yeah...I feel it all the time, every time actually...every time I-" Canada inhaled sharply and a hand jumped up to cover his mouth, he hadn't been thinking at all about the words that were tumbling from his lips into the dark night before they'd already left him and France had taken a slight step closer towards him. The Canadian bit his lip behind his palm and shook his head slightly, he tried to move backwards but his shoes were momentarily hindered by the frost and his feet staggered on the frozen grass; France's hand shot out and grabbed Canada's arm before he could fall over backwards.

The Frenchman steadied him until he was stable on feet, smiling in a bemused fashion as he carefully curled his fingers into the Canadian's hand still placed over his mouth and slowly lowered it so that their hands were joined beside them. "...what were trying to say?" he asked in a whisper.

Canada wanted to pull away again, tears were resurfacing beneath the lenses of his glasses, he couldn't escape it now, he had to carry on, admit what he'd been so carelessly about to blurt out. He gave a small sniff, the warmth of France's hand on his own heated up his face and enflamed his heart; the Canadian couldn't meet the man's eyes through his misted glasses as he said in the quietest of voices. "I know how it feels to be broken hearted because it happens every time I'm around you..."

Canada had stopped breathing, tremors of fear running through him at the anticipation of France's response, he thanked whatever God there may be above that his tears were for once helping his situation, making him incapable of seeing the man's face. After several tense moments the Canadian felt himself starting to shake, but he was certain it had nothing to do with the cold. Trying to bring himself to turn and walk away a pair of warm hands were cupping his face and bringing him forwards; confused and uncertain Canada let him be dragged towards the blond until a soft pair of lips settled against his own.

It took Canada several long moments to realise he was being kissed, and when he did he felt his insides set on fire, his shaking hands suddenly grasped hold of the man's upper arms. France seemed surprised by the response but took it in stride, scooping the younger man closer towards him he delved deeper into his mouth, their lips moulding against each other delicately as slowly their tongues grazed together. The cold whipped around them as the couple stood kissing beneath the moonlight above, frost biting at their ankles as the wind chilled their heated skin. Canada felt the gentle fingers against his face disappear and the man slowly pulling away; France merely gazed at him through the darkness, a soft smirk upon his face.

Canada blushed heavily, his eyes darting away. "...sorry." he squeaked.

France snorted with laughter. "For what mon cher? Don't be ridiculous..." he muttered through the chortling, he smiled at the younger man and held out a hand. "Come."

Canada nodded subconsciously, he allowed himself to be dragged away by France, their fingers lacing together snugly. He didn't care much for where he was being led, his heart was pummelling far too furiously for him to concentrate on much else but the beautiful blond holding his hand and keeping him close. Canada felt a warmth rush through him and obliterate the cold, he'd been led back into the Frenchman's heated home; the party was still going on but no one seemed to notice them, no one stopped to speak to them or interrupt them as France carried on, weaving them in and out of drunken party guests to reach the hall. The Frenchman was never usually subjected to invisibility in the way Canada was, his presence with the man was condemning them both it seemed, but for once the young man's curse was actually a joy and not an affliction.

Before he'd even realised it Canada was once again in France's lavish bedroom, yet the light remained switched off and the man led him silently to his large bed in the dark. Only when his knees made contact with the soft quilt to Canada realise he was nervous; beside him France was removing his shoes and without really thinking about it the Canadian hastily did the same. He let out a quiet noise of shock when a pair of arms snaked their way around his slim waist from behind and Canada was tugged over backwards into another deep kiss, France leaning down over him as they lowered further onto the bed.

The soft kiss quickly turned passionate as France lay over the younger man, the both of them tugging feverously at each other's clothing; Canada felt the button's on France's silk shirt coming undone and his bare chest being touched by long slim fingers that gently grazed across his warm, pliable skin. The lovers broke apart at a sudden pleasurable yell that echoed into the room from the bedroom across the hall; France and Canada met each other's eyes and broke into a fit of snorting giggles.

"Sounds like your brother iz 'aving fun." France said with a smirk.

Canada nodded, still smiling. "...yeah." he glanced up shyly at the blond, his cheeks still glowing red.

France grinned, giving him a soft kiss on the neck. "But zen again...so will you in a moment." he drawled, nuzzling lightly into him. Canada shivered, curling his fingers into the man's long hair, the Frenchman felt them trembling and he sat up, the smile gone from his face. "...but only if you're okay with zis mon cher."

The Canadian felt a surge of warmth at the man's genuine concern and he nodded without hesitation. "I'm more than okay."

France's smile flourished once more and he dove back onto him, pinning Canada's arms above their heads as their lips pressed together and their tongues danced about once more. He eased them both down onto the bed and Canada lay back with complete trust. France's fingers danced across the thin material of the red silk shirt beneath him, tracing patterns up and down Canada's chest. He moaned softly and pushed up against France, not surprised at all by the firm bulge he met there. Their clothes just seemed to melt away in a flurry of limps and frantic scrambling until they were both left in nothing but their underwear. France's mouth latched onto Canada's collar bone, switching between licking and nibbling lightly at the pale skin there, Canada's moans grew steadily louder as that tongue darted across his sensitive body, moving further down and leaving a trail of moisture against his chest.

France's hands worked their way down to the waistband of Canada's boxers and he hooked his thumbs under the elastic, delighting in the sharp intake of breath issued from the young man at the sensation. He slid the boxers down in one smooth move just as he'd shifted all the way to the bottom of the bed and was level with the man's groin; France sucked in a breath himself as the Canadian's beautiful erection sprung forward, freed from the binding material. His fingers played over the skin, his feather light touch causing Canada to groan and thrust forward blindly at him. France smirked lightly as he continued to tease the man for a short while, pressing his thumb against the tip and kissing his way slowly down the shaft. Above him Canada withered and mewled, unable to take the torturous teasing.

Canada suddenly sat up and stared down at him, his normally pale face was flushed and tiny beads of sweat were glistening over his forehead. "France, take me, please...I want to feel you." he moaned breathlessly, his voice much deeper and startling desperate.

Canada grabbed hold of France's shoulders and pulled him up to lie over him, France went willingly, turned on even further by the Canadian's sudden surge of dominance. The Frenchman's boxers were hastily removed and he lifted the younger man's leg up over his shoulder, positioning his weeping member at the Canadian's entrance. He paused to meet Canada's eyes and held himself still, his fingers trailing tenderly across his soft cheek. "...are you sure?"

Canada nodded determinedly, his body was aching with want, pure want and lust for the man about him. "Yes, please do it France..." he whispered breathily, finding the Frenchman's other hand in the dark their fingers laced together on top of the bed.

France stared down at him, his eyes watering with a sudden flood of emotions. "...I love you Canada." the Frenchman thrust forwards into the younger man, a deep groan of pleasure escaping his lips as he was fully engulfed in the hot sheath of his lover.

Canada gasped loudly as he was stretched by the large intrusion, arching his back he pushed his fingers into the man's soft hair, pulling him down to moan in his ear. "I love you too France." he breathed, almost too overwhelmed to speak.

France gave a sudden low growl deep in his throat and pulled back only to thrust back into the young man just as suddenly, he started a fast paced rhythm and he pounded hard into the young man. Canada groaned loudly, his blunt nails sinking into the man's scalp as he was rocked continuously back and forth with the force of France's erratic thrusting. His breathing became ragged, the pleasure mounting deep within him as France's hand found his own throbbing member, it only took several long strokes until he was undone and Canada let himself go over their bare chests. France's lips found his and they shared a deep kiss as the pace increased further still, the movement had the Canadian gasping and withering beneath the older man, the angle of penetration was deeper than ever before.

Their rhythm became rapid and desperate; France lost the ability to breathe, so overwhelmed by the sensation that he couldn't think to draw a breath. With one final thrust, France's last final breath of air was pushed out of him with an explosive gasp as poured himself deep into his Canadian lover.

France collapsed heavily onto the younger man, panting deeply against the Canadian's shoulder. Canada's shaking arms circled around the blonds' sweaty back, he held him so very close, burrowing his face into his neck as tears started seeping slowly down his face. Several minutes passed filled only with deep breathing and the occasional sigh of contentment until France slowly sat up on his elbows, smiling warily at the young man. "Mon cher..." he purred, gently brushing away the tears clinging to the Canadian's face.

Canada gave a soft laugh, his face breaking out into a grin. "...sorry I just." he hastily wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. "I've been dreaming about doing that for so long..."

France smirked slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. "...as 'ave I, you're so beautiful Canada." he murmured tiredly.

Canada smiled, blushing lightly as he nuzzled into the man. "...thank you..." he whispered softly, they lay there in silence for a few minutes longer, just listening to the beat of the music downstairs vibrating against the carpet. "...the party's still going."

France nodded, curling his arms around the Canadian's waist. "Oui but zey will 'ave to do without me." he muttered with a smile.

"...you're not going back down?" Canada asked in surprise, gazing down at the man adoringly.

France grinned, scooping the Canadian into his arms and pulling him down to rest against his chest. "Why would I want to go down zere when you're up 'ere?" he muttered into the young man's hair, he inhaled deeply and let out a soft sigh. "...you smell wonderful."

Canada's heart felt elated, he felt as if he was going to wake up any moment from the most amazing dream...he saw the Frenchman's eyes slide closed yet he still kept a tight hold of the Canadian in his arms as they lay curled up together in the soft warm bed. Canada thought he could hear soft murmurs coming from a room close by, tender love confessions and feelings being shared. He placed a shy kiss in the centre of France's chest, letting his own eyes drift closed.

"...merry Christmas Canada." France's soft voice whispered after a few moments of comfortable silence.

Canada smiled, tightening his arms around France's shoulders. "Merry Christmas France."

* * *

**Yay finally done! Was hoping this would be up before Christmas seeing as the holidays are kind of over now, oh well**

**A franada request for MissSkulduggeryPleasant, and I hope she enjoyed it :)**

**Reviews are love :)**


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